The  Culture  and  Management  of 

)ur  Native  Forests  for  Development 

As  Timber  or  Ornamental  Wood 
By  -  Horace  William  Shaler  Clevel; 


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THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THI 
INDICATED  BELOW  AND  1 
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POSTED  AT  THE  CIRCUI 
DESK. 


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NORTH  CAROLINA  STATE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 

I  mil  mil  mil  mil  mil  mil  mil  iiii  mil  nil 


T  li  Hi 


CULTURE  AND  MANAGEMENT 


ATIVE  FORESTS 


FOR  DEVELOPMENT  AS 


TIMBER    OR    ORNAMENTAL    WOOD. 


b  Y 
n.    W.    S.    C  LE  V  K  LAND. 


18  82 


Entered  according  to  act  of  CongresB. 
By  H.  W.  8.  Cleveland. 


Sl'j£l.N(i  FIELD: 
H.  W.  UoKKEn,  Printek  and  BiNDEn. 

1H.«-J. 


CULTURE  AND  MANAGEMENT 


OF  OUR 


ATIVE  FORESTS 


FOR  DEVELOPMENT  AS 


TIMBER    OR    ORNAMENTAL    WOOD. 


BY 
H.    W.    S.    C  L  E  V  E  L  A  X  U. 


188  2. 


Entered  accordine  to  act  of  Congress. 
By  H.  W.  S.  Clkveland. 


SPRINGFIELD: 
H.  'W.  RoKKEB.  Printer  and  Binder. 

18  8  2. 


D.  H.HILL  LIBRARY 

r>J      f      QTflTt:    liMh/CDCITV 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  is  proper  that  I  should  preface  the  following  essay  by  a  state- 
ment of  the  circumstances  which  led  to  its  preparation. 

A  letter  of  mine,  on  "Tree  Culture,"  which  was  published  in  the 
New  York  Nation  of  Dec.  1,  1881,  elicited  so  many  inquiries  from 
such  widely  separated  sections  of  the  country,  as  to  convince  me 
that  the  subject  was  one  of  very  general  interest.  In  every  letter  I 
received  the  question  was  asked,  "Where  can  I  find  any  treatise  or 
book  of  instruction  on  the  management  of  our  native  forests  ?"  and 
I  was  forced  to  reply  that  I  knew  of  no  such  book,  and  had  been 
assured,  on  the  highest  authority,  that  there  was  no  foreign  work 
that  was  applicable  to  our  wants.  All  that  I  had  learned  upon  the 
subject  had  been  from  experience  and  observation,  and  I  felt  pain- 
fully conscious  of  my  own  ignorance  of  much  that  pertains  to  it. 
But  the  questions  that  were  asked  me  by  intelligent  inquirers  afford- 
ed in  themselves  sufficient  evidence  of  a  general  want  of  recognition 
of  some  of  the  principles  which  experience  had  taught  me  were  of 
essential  importance  in  forest  culture.  These  I  have  endeavored  to 
set  forth  in  the  following  essay,  which  I  have  had  the  honor  of 
reading  to  a  committee  of  the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  and  to  the 
National  Forestry  Congress,  at  Cincinnati. 

H.  W.  S.  Cleveland. 

97  Washington  Btreet, 
Chicago,  III,,  May  1,  1882. 


I  "I  J 


Th^  Cnltnre  aui  Mauapmeiit  ol  our  Natiye  Forests,  for  Deyelopeut 
as  Tifflkr  or  Oniaiueutal 


BY  H.  W.  S.  CLEVELAND. 

Man's  progress  from  barbarism  to  civilization  is  indicated  by  the 
degree  of  skill  he  has  attained  in  the  cultivation  of  those  products 
of  the  earth  which  minister  to  his  necessities  and  comfort.  As  long 
as  the  natural  resources  are  sufficient  to  supply  his  primary  wants 
of  food  and  clothing,  he  will  make  no  effort  to  increase  them,  and 
it  is  only  as  he  is  driven  by  the  necessities  of  increasing  demand 
and  diminishing  supply  that  he  exerts  himself  to  secure  relief  by 
artificial  means. 

The  first  efforts  of  the  savage  at  cultivation  are  of  the  rudest  de- 
scription, and  just  in  proportion  as  tribes  and  nations  advance  in 
numl)er8,  power  and  intelligence,  do  they  also  gain  in  improved 
methods  of  tillage,  in  greater  knowledge  of  the  science  of  culture, 
and  in  better  implements  and  machinery  for  its  performance. 

These  are  simple  truths,  which  everyone  will  recognize.  Their 
apjdication  to  the  subject  of  forest  culture,  lies  in  the  obvious  fact 
that  it  is  not  until  a  nation  has  reached  mature  age,  and  an  ad- 
vanced stage  of  civilization,  that  the  native  growth  of  wild  forest 
proves  insufficient  for  the  increasing  demand  for  timber,  and  the 
necessity  of  providing,  by  artificial  culture,  for  an  additional  supply, 
begins  to  be  felt. 

We  could  hardly  have  a  more  striking  illustration  than  is  here 
afforded,  of  the  adaptation  of  the  provisions  of  nature,  first,  to  the 
immediate  necessities  of  existence,  and  subsequently  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  latent  powers  of  the  human  race.  The  cereals  and 
vegetables  which  are  essential  to  man's  daily  support  are  of  annual 
growth.  Their  culture  is  comparatively  simple,  and  he  soon  learns 
that  his  very  existence  is  dependent  upon  their  renewed  production 
with  each  recurring  summer.  The  forests  are  equally  essential  to 
his  further  development,  by  furnishing  material  for  the  construction 
of  houses  and  ships,  and  the  countless  implements  by  whose  aid  he 
attains  to  almost  superhuman  power.  But  the  forest  requires  the 
lifetime  of  two  or  three  generations  for  the  full  attainment  of  ma- 
turity. In  the  infaucy.  of  the  race,  the  necessity  of  providing  for 
such  distant  wants  could  not  l)e  foreseen. 

Nature,  therefore,  as  if  she  had  been  conscious  that  forest  culture 
was  too  arduous  an  undertaking  for  primitive  man,  has  furnished  so 
al)undant  a  supply,  that  no  deficiency  or  necessity  of  economy  is 
felt  till  the  nation  has  acquired  such  a  degree  of  intelligence  as  to 
be  competent  to  the  solution  of  the  prol)lem. 

And  this  is  the  point  at  which  we  now  stand,  and  which  the  older 
nations  of  Europe  have   long  since   passed,  seeing   plainly  that  our 


natural  sources  are  well  nigh  exhausted,  yet  shrinking  from  the  un- 
familiar task  of  seeking  to  supply  the  deficiency  by  artificial  means. 

Many  once  powerful  nations  have  dwindled  mto  insignificance  in 
consequence  of  their  neglect  of  this  lesson  which  nature  imperatively 
demands  that  we  should  learn.  Their  fate  should  be  to  us  a  warn- 
ing, as  the  efforts  of  the  most  intelligent  nations  of  to-day  should 
be  to  us  an  example,  to  save  us  from  a  like  fate.  The  necessity 
for  action  is  imminent,  and  can  not  be  averted.  The  subject  of  the 
increasing  demand  and  rapidly  diminishing  supply  of  timber  through- 
out the  country,  has  been  so  thoroughly  discussed  by  legislative 
committees,  both  State  and  National,  by  agricultural  societies  and 
by  able  individual  writers,  that  it  would  seem  but  a  waste  of  time 
to  bring  forward  the  oft-repeated  statistics  in  evidence  of  the  danger 
that  threatens  us,  and  the  urgent  need  of  adopting  measures  of 
protection  and  relief. 

Assuming,  therefore,  that  my  readers  are  familiar  with  the  data 
which  prove  the  necessity,  I  pass  at  once  to  the  consideration  of 
the  means  of  averting  the  danger. 

The  only  measure  of  relief  thus  far  suggested  with  any  definite 
prospect  of  success,  is  the  planting  of  new  forests.  Much  has  been 
said,  it  is  true,  about  the  preservation  of  those  that  remain ;  but 
the  words  seem  meaningless,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  private  prop- 
erty is  beyond  the  control  of  the  Government,  and  Congress  de- 
clines even  to  grant  means  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  that  which 
still  pertains  to  the  public  domain. 

The  planting  of  new  forests  is  indeed  an  all-important  work,  which 
can  not  be  too  strongly  urged,  but  we  have  not  yet  reached  the 
period  when  it  is  likely  to  be  successfully  inaugurated,  except,  per- 
haps, in  occasional  instances  by  railroad  or  manufacturing  compa- 
nies, with  a  view  to  their  own  future  wants.  Individuals  will  not 
engage,  to  any  great  extent,  in  a  work  which  demands  the  invest- 
ment not  only  of  a  large  amount  of  money,  and  the  continuous  ex- 
penditure of  a  great  deal  of  labor,  but  also  of  a  long  period  of  time, 
which  is  the  one  form  of  capital  of  which  we  never  have  a  surplus. 
It  behooves  us,  therefore,  to  study  rather  more  closely  than  we  have 
heretofore  done,  the  possibility  of  improving  the  condition  of  that 
which  remains.  The  woods  still  standing  contain  a  vast  amount  of 
available  material  which  is  susceptible  of  development  in  far  less 
time  than  would  be  required  for  the  planting  and  growth  of  new 
forests,  our  utter  neglect  of  which  furnishes  one  of  the  most  striking 
proofs  of  our  ignorance  of  forest  culture. 

No  one  can  travel  through  any  portion  of  the  States  east  of  the 
prairie  regions,  without  being  impressed  by  the  fact  that  he  is  never 
out  of  sight  of  woodland.  In  fact,  the  chief  cause  of  the  prevailing 
apathy  on  the  subject  of  forest  planting,  arises  from  the  fact  of  the 
great  abundance  of  groves  and  extended  forests,  which  convey  the 
impression,  in  spite  of  the  assertions  of  staticians,  that  there  is  still 
enough  wood  growing  to  supply  the  place  of  that  which  is  removed. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle,  in  the  interesting  sketch  of  his  trip  through 
the  States,  published  after  his  return  to  England,  says  emphatically 
that  nothing  in  the  asptct  of  the  country  surprised  and  impressed 
him  so  much  as  the  great  amount  of  wood  still  remaining,  and 
everywhere    giving    beauty  and   variety  to    the    landscape ;    but    he 


aJded  that  it  was  everywhere  the  beauty  of  the  Avikl  ^yood,  which 
never  bore  any  evidence  of  culture  or  effort  to  increase  its  vahie  by 
artificial  development. 

"I  saw  nothing  (he  says)  that  could  be  called  fine  timber,  and  no 
woods  which  showed  any  care  in  thinning,  with  a  view  to  the  pro- 
duction of  such  timber  in  the  future." 

Such  a  criticism  is  not  surprising  from  one  who,  like  most  coun- 
try gentlemen  of  England,  is  familiar  with  the  process  of  forest 
culture,  but  it  certainly  is  surprising  that,  with  all  our  boasted  in- 
telligence, we  still  remain  practically  insensible  to  the  fact  that, 
while  almost  every  tract  of  woodland  contains  a  large  percentage  of 
such  trees  as  are  most  valuable  for  timber,  already  well  advanced  in 
growth,  and  susceptible,  by  judicious  management,  of  being  devel- 
oped into  proper  form  and  size  for  use  in  far  less  time  and  at  far 
less  cost  than  would  be  required  for  the  planting  and  growth  of  new 
forest ;  yet,  if  left  to  themselves,  not  one  tree  in  a  thousand  will 
ever  be  fit  for  anything  better  than  fencing  stuff  or  fuel.  Vast  re- 
sources of  wealth  are  lying  latent  and  running  to  waste  in  our 
woodlands,  and  we  stand  stupidly  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  its 
development  requires  simply  the  application  of  the  intelligent  cul- 
ture we  bestow  on  all  other  crops.  In  many  instances,  it  is  true, 
the  native  woods  have  been  so  long  neglected,  that  they  are  past 
redemption,  but  there  are,  nevertheless,  large  areas  of  continuous  for- 
est, and  smaller  groves  and  woodlots  in  every  section  of  the  coun- 
try, now  yielding  no  revenue,  which  might,  Ijy  proper  annual  thin- 
ning, pruning  and  culture,  be  developed  into  timber  forests  of  very 
great  value,  while  yielding  an  annual  crop  of  firewood  in  the  pro- 
cess. ' 

Where  shall  we  find,  or  how  shall  we  create,  the  men  who  are 
competent  to  the  work '?  To  judge  from  invariable  practice,  our 
people  seem  not  only  to  be  ignorant  of  the  first  principles  of  forest 
culture,  but  unconscious  even  of  the  possii)ility  of  its  application  to 
the  development  of  our  native  woods.  The  fact  of  such  prevailing 
ignorance  rests  not  alone  upon  negative  evidence.  We  have  posi- 
tive proof  in  abundance  in  the  attempts  which  we  often  see  at  the 
"improvement"  of  a  piece  of  woodland  when  it  is  appropriated  as 
the  site  of  a  residence.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  of  anything  more 
dismal  and  forlorn  than  the  average  result  of  the  effort  to  imi)art  a 
homelike  aspect  to  such  a  place;  the  dwelling,  with  its  "span  new" 
expression,  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude  of  tall  poles,  with 
tufts  of  leaves  upon  their  tops,  looking  like  fowls  stripped  of  their 
feathers,  and  the  bare  ground  fretted  everywhere  with  freshly  up- 
turned root»s,  the  sole  remnants  of  the  wild  shrubbery  which  has 
been  ruthlessly  extenniiiated. 

In  order  to  a  comprehension  of  the  principles  of  healthy  forest 
growth,  let  us  consider  some  of  the  processes  of  nature,  and  learn 
from  them  her  requirements. 

If  we  plant  the  seed  of  a  maple,  chestnut,  linden,  oak  or  ash  tree 
by  itself  in  the  open  ground  in  suitable  soil,  and  suffer  it  to  grow 
without  molestation,  simply  guarding  it  from  injury,  we  shall  find 
that  the  first  act  of  the  young  plant  is  to  send  out  broad  leaves, 
which    serve  among  other   purposes   to  shade  completely  the    stem, 


Lvi] 

and  the  ground  immediately  around  it  in  which  the  roots  are  grow- 
ing. As  the  tree  grows,  it  preserves  a  symmetrical  shape,  the  limbs 
spreading  and  the  trunk  increasing  in  size,  in  proportion  to  its 
height,  but  always  preserving  the  condition  of  keeping  the  trunk 
and  the  ground  for  a  considerable  distance  around  it,  in  the  shadow 
of  the  foliage  till  mature  age,  when  the  roots  have  penetrated  to 
such  a  depth  as  to  be  safe  from  injury,  and  the  trunk  is  protected 
by  thick  layers  of  cork  like  bark,  which  safely  guards  alike  from 
heat  and  cold  the  inner  layers  and  young  wood  in  which  the  sap  is 
performing  its  functions. 

Such  are  the  conditions  to  which  nature  adheres,  if  not  interfered 
with  by  accident  or  design,  and  such,  therefore,  we  may  be  sure, 
are  those  best  adapted  to  healthy  and  vigorous  growth.  The  fact 
that  they  are  continually  violated  with  apparent  impunity,  serves 
only  to  show  the  wonderful  power  of  nature  to  supply  deficiencies, 
and  adapt  herself  to  circumstances,  but  in  artificial  culture,  we 
should  aim  as  nearly  as  possible  to  imitate  the  course  she  would 
pursue  if  unimpeded. 

The  requirements  of  nature  are  of  course  the  same  when  trees  are 
growing  together  in  a  forest,  as  when  they  stand  singly,  but  the 
conditions  of  growth  are  so  changed  that  the  end  is  attained  by 
entirely  different  means. 

If  we  enter  a  tract  of  wood  land,  covered  with  a  hard  wood  growth 
of  an  average  height  of  thirty  or  forty  feet  we  find  it  composed 
almost  exclusively  of  trees  which  have  run  up  to  a  great  height  in 
proportion  to  the  spread  of  their  limbs.  The  largest  and  oldest  of 
them  may  have  had  some  lateral  branches  which  are  now  dead, 
but  the  younger  growth  will  consist  only  of  tall,  slender  stems,  with- 
out a  branch  or  leaf  except  near  the  top.  It  will  be  difficult,  per- 
haps impossible,  to  find  a  single  tree  possessing  sufficient  symmetry 
of  form  to  be  worth  transplanting  for  ornamental  use.  A  little 
reflection  will  serve  to  convince  us  that  this  form  of  growth,  so 
different  from  that  of  the  single  tree  in  the  open  ground,  is  the 
natural  result  of  the  action  of  the  same  rules  under  changed  con- 
ditions. 

When  a  young  wood  first  springs  up  on  open  ground,  each  tree 
begins  to  grow  as  if  it  were  alone,  sending  out  lateral  branches 
and  preserving  its  just  proportion.  But  whenever  these  laterals 
meet  and  mingle  with  each  other,  they  shut  out  the  sunlight  from 
all  below,  and  thence  forward  all  lateral  growth  must  cease,  and 
each  individual  is  struggling  upward  to  keep  even  with  its  neiglibors 
and  secure  its  share  of  the  sunbeams  which  are  essential  to  its 
existence,  and  which  can  only  be  had  at  the  top.  It  thus  becomes 
forced  out  of  all  just  proportions  in  the  effort  to  keep  even  with  its 
fellows.  The  conditions  of  keeping  the  trunk  and  roots  in  the  shade, 
however,  are  even  more  rigidly  adhered  to  than  in  the  case  of  the 
single  tree,  growing  by  itself,  for  the  whole  area  of  the  wood  is 
shaded,  and,  moreover,  the  trees  on  the  edges  of  the  wood,  if  not 
interfered  with  by  men  or  cattle,  will  be  clothed  on  the  outer  side 
with  limbs  and  foliage,  clear  to  the  ground,  so  as  to  check  the  free 
passage  of  the  winds  whose  drying  influence  upon  the  soil  is  even 
more  active  than  that  of  the  sun. 


[VII] 

If  we  examine  more  closely  we  shall  find  that  nature  adapts  her- 
self to  these  changed  conditions,  and  avails  herself  of  whatever 
advantages  they  afford. 

The  single  tree  when  growing  by  itself  sends  its  roots  deep  into 
the  ground  in  search  of  the  moisture  which  cannot  be  had  near  the 
surface,  and  thus,  when  it  reaches  mature  age,  it  draws  its  supplies 
from  sources  beyond  the  reach  of  temporary  changes,  and,  moreover, 
secures  so  firm  a  hold  upon  the  ground  that  it  suffers  no  injury 
from  the  storms  that  assail  it,  but  fearlessly  stretches  forth  its 
arms  as  if  to  challenge  the  gale. 

In  the  woods,  on  the  contrary,  the  surface  soil  never  becomes 
parched  or  heated,  but  maintains  an  even  degree  of  temperature 
and  moisture  in  consequence  not  only  of  the  exclusion  of  the  sun 
and  winds,  but  of  the  deep  mulching  of  leaves  which  annually  cover 
tlie  ground  and  keep  it  moist,  while,  by  their  decomposition,  they 
form  a  rich  mould  comprising  all  the  ingredients  of  vegetation. 

If  we  dig  only  a  few  inches  into  this  mould  we  find  it  everywhere 
permeated  by  fibrous  rootlets  emanating  from  larger  roots,  which 
under  these  circumstances  have  kept  near  the  surface  where  they 
draw  nourishment  from  the  rich  material  there  provided.  If  the 
single  tree  in  the  open  ground  had  tried  to  live  by  such  means,  it 
would  speedly  have  perished  for  want  of  nourishment,  or  would 
have  been  uprooted  by  the  winds  as  forest  trees  are  liable  to  be 
when  left  alone  in  a  clearing. 

In  the  woods  the  necessity  no  longer  exists  of  sending  the  roots 
to  a  great  depth  either  in  search  of  nourishment  or  for  support 
against  storms,  and  nature  always  adapts  hereself  to  circumstances 
and  attains  her  ends  by  the  simplest  and  most  economical  means. 

If  we  now  consider  the  facts  I  have  stated,  which  anyone  can 
easily  verify  for  himself,  we  shall  find  that  all  the  essential  princi- 
ples of  tree  culture  are  comprised  within  their  limits,  and  by  their 
rational  observances  we  may  secure  healthy  and  vigorous  trees,  and 
develope  at  will  either  such  forms  as  will  fit  them  for  timber  or  for 
ornamental  use. 

The  five  trees  I  have  cited— maple,  chestnut,  linden,  oak  and  ash 
—are  among  the  most  common  and  yet  the  most  valuable  of  our 
forest  trees,  and  may  be  taken  as  representatives  and  proper  illus- 
trations of  the  facts  I  am  stating.  Either  of  these  trees,  if  growing 
by  itself  in  proper  soil  and  undisturbed  by  other  than  natural  influ- 
ences, will  attain,  at  maturity  a  height  of  seventy  or  eighty  feet, 
with  a  spread  of  limb  i-qual  in  diameter  to  its  height,  and  a  trunk 
of  such  massive  proportions  as  leaves  no  room  for  apprehension  of 
inal)ility  to  uphold  the  wilderness  of  foliage  it  has  to  support.  But 
these  same  trees,  if  growing  m  a  wood,  will  send  up  a  slender  stem, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  fifty,  sixty  or  seventy  feet  without  a  limb  or 
a  leaf,  till  it  reaches  the  average  height  of  its  fellows,  and  sends  out 
its  tufts  of  foliage  to  secure  the  benefit  of  every  sunbeam  it  can 
catcii. 

"We  see  therefore,  that  if  we  wish  to  form  a  beautiful  and  sym- 
metrical tree,  or  a  grove  of  such,  composed  of  individual  specimens 
of  majestic  and  graceful  proportions,  we  must  allow  it  free  access, 
to  sun  and  air,  with  full  power  of  expansion  on  every  side.  While 
young,  however,  the  growth  will  be  more  vigorous  and  healthy,  and 


r  VIII  ] 

we  can  develop  the  desired  forms  more  easily  and  sucessfully,  by 
leaving  a  much  greater  number  of  trees  than  are  eventually  to 
remain,  and  removing  from  year  to  year  all  which  are  near  enough 
to  the  final  occupants  to  check  or  impede  their  full  development. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  wish  to  develop  the  trunk  or  bole  for 
use  as  timber  we  must  plant,  or  suffer  the  trees  to  grow  more 
thickly  together,  and  thus  extend  its  trunk  longitudinally  by  forcing 
it  to  ascend  in  search  of  the  sunlight  on  which  its  very  existence  is 
dependent.  The  indigenous  growth,  however,  is  always  a  great  deal 
too  thick  for  successful  development.  The  trees  are  so  crowded 
that  many  of  them  perish  in  the  struggle,  and  those  which  survive 
are  drawn  up  into  such  spindling  proportions  that  not  one  in  a 
hundred  ever  attains  the  dignity  of  timber,  whereas  by  proper  and 
reasonable  thinning,  and  judicious  culture  and  pruning  of  the  trees 
selected  for  final  retention,  every  acre  of  woodland  might  be  made 
to  yield  an  annual  crop  of  fire- wood,  and  all  the  while  be  growing 
timber  which  eventually  in  many  instances  might  be  worth  more 
than  the  land  itself;  or  by  a  different  process  of  management  may 
be  converted  into  a  grove  of  majestic  and  graceful,  ornamental  trees. 

The  proper  performance  of  this  work  constitutes  the  most  impor- 
tant part  of  forest  culture  and  for  want  of  the  knowledge  of  how  it 
should  be  done,  or  from  ignorance  of  the  possibility  of  its  applica- 
tion to  our  native  forest,  a  vast  area  (in  the  aggregate)  of  woodland 
is  running  to  waste ;  yielding  no  revenue  and  promising  nothing 
better  in  the  future  than  fire-wood,  of  which  a  very  large  propor- 
tion is  yet  susceptible  of  redemption  and  conversion  into  timber  of 
great  value  at  far  less  cost  of  time  and  labor  than  would  be  required 
for  the  planting  and  rearing  of  new  forests,  while  the  very  process 
of  development  would  be  yielding  an  annual  income  instead  of 
demanding  large  outlays. 

Travel  where  we  may  we  are  never  out  of  sight  of  forest,  and 
every  wood  lot  is  a  mine  of  wealth  waiting  only  the  application  of 
intelligent  labor  for  its  development.  In  almost  every  tract  of  wood- 
land may  be  found  more  or  less  of  the  trees  I  have  named  and  in 
many  places  also  hickory,  walnut,  butternut,  elm,  cherry,  beech  and 
other  valuable  timber  trees,  mingled  with  a  great  variety  of  those 
which  are  worthless,  or  fit  only  for  fuel.  In  some  cases  they  are 
past  redemption,  having  been  so  long  neglected  that  they  have  run 
up  into  mere  thickets  of  hooppoles.  Young  growth  may  everywhere 
be  found,  however,  which  are  in  condition  to  be  taken  in  hand,  and 
in  almost  all  cases  the  work  of  thinning,  and  pruning  may  be 
entered  upon  with  a  certainty  of  profitable  results  if  wisely  and 
perseveringly  conducted. 

The  work  of  thinning,  as  ordinarily  conducted  in  the  occasional 
instances  in  which  on  any  account  it  has  become  desirable,  is  en- 
trusted to  mere  laborers,  who  have  no  regard  for  the  natural  condi- 
tions which  are  essential  to  healthy  growth,  and  which  can  not  be 
suddenly  changed,  without  serious  injury  to  the  trees  that  are  left. 

All  the  small  growth  of  shrubs,  such  as  hazel,  cornel,  dogwood, 
elder,  shad-bush,  etc.,  is  first  grubbed  out  and  destroyed  under  the 
general  term  of  "underbrush,"  and  this  not  only  throughout  the 
interior  of  the  wood,  but  round  its  outer  edges  where  such  shrubbery 
is  apt  to  spring  up  in  thickets,  which  serve  the  very  important  pur- 


[IX] 

pose  of  preventing  the  free  passage  of  the  wind  over  the  surface 
soil  of  the  interior,  besides  adding  incalculably  to  the  beauty  of  the 
wood,  as  seen  from  without  by  connecting  the  line  of  foliage  of 
the  trees,  with  that  of  the  sward  below,  and  presenting  a  living  mass 
of  verdure.  The  trees  which  are  considered  most  desirable  to  pre- 
serve, are  then  selected,  and  all  the  rest  at  once  removed.  Finally 
the  leaves  are  carefully  raked  from  the  surface  and  carried  otV  or 
burnt. 

Sun  and  wind  now  have  free  access  to  the  soil,  and  it  very  soon 
becomes  parched  and  dry.  The  fine  rootlets  near  the  surface,  which 
have  heretofore  been  preserved  by  the  never-failing  moisture  of  the 
rich  mould  under  its  mulching  of  leaves,  are  converted  into  a  mass 
of  wiry  fibres,  no  longer  capable  of  conveying  nourishment,  even  if 
it  were  within  their  reach.  And  while  the  means  of  supply  are  thus 
reduced,  the  tall,  slender  trunk,  through  which  the  sap  must  ascend 
to  the  leaves,  is  now  exposed  to  the  free  action  of  the  sun  and 
winds.  Now  I  do  not  presume  to  say,  that  evaporation  can  take 
plrfce  through  the  bark,  but  the  provisions  which  nature  makes  to 
guard  the  inner  vital  tissues,  from  the  efifect  of  the  sun's  rays  indi- 
cate beyond  all  question,  that  they  are  in  some  way  injurious.  I 
have  elsewhere  shown  that  in  the  case  of  the  single  tree  growing  by 
itself,  the  trunk  is  always  shaded  by  the  si)reading  foliage,  when 
suffered  to  retain  its  natural  form.  In  the  forest,  the  trees  shade 
each  other,  and  thus  efiect  the  object  by  mutual  action.  But  now 
let  me  call  your  attention  to  another  provision  of  nature  which  few 
people  observe,  but  the  meaning  of  which  is  too  obvious  to  be  mis- 
taken. If  we  examine  the  bark  of  an  oak,  elm.  chestnut  or  maple, 
of  mature  age,  which  has  always  stood  by  itself,  exposed  to  the  full 
inriuence  of  atmospheric  changes,  we  find  it  to  be  of  great  thickness 
of  very  rugged  character,  and  of  a  cork-like  consistency,  all  of  which 
characteristics  make  it  the  best  possible  non-conductor  of  heat  or 
cold  that  can  be  imagined,  under  the  protection  of  which  the  living 
tissues  are  safely  kept  from  injury  through  the  burning  heat  of 
summer  and  the  intense  cold  of  winter. 

Now  go  into  the  forest  where  the  trees  shade  each  other,  and  wind 
and  sun  are  excluded,  and  you  will  find  that  the  bark  of  the  trees, 
is  smooth  and  thin  in  comparison  with  that  of  those  in  the  open 
ground. 

Natrue  never  wastes  her  energies  needlessly,  and  the  trees  in  the 
woods  do  not  require  the  thick  coat  of  those  that  are  exposed.  But 
the  effect  of  suddenly  admitthig  the  sun  and  wind  upon  them  is 
precisely  the  same  as  that  of  exposing  any  portion  of  the  human 
skin  which  had  heretofore  been  clothed.  It  is  to  guard  against 
injury  from  this  source  that  experienced  tree-planters,  when  remov- 
ing large  trees  from  the  woods,  are  accustomed  to  swathe  the  trunks 
witii  ropes  of  straw,  which  is  a  rational  process,  yet  it  is  by  no 
means  uncommon  to  see  the  reverse  of  this  action.  I  have  seen, 
during  the  past  winter  a  great  many  very  large  tine  trees  planted 
on  the  best  avenues  in  Chicago,  at  a  cost  of  certainly  not  less  than 
fifty  dollars  each,  from  the  trunks  and  large  limbs  of  which  all  the 
rough  bark  had  been  carefully  scraped,  leaving  only  a  thin,  smooth 
covering  over  the  inner  tissues.  This  is  as  if  a  man  should  prepare 
for  unusual  exposure  to  heat  or  cold  by  laying  aside  all  his  clothing. 


Few  persons,  even  among  those  whose  business  is  tree  culture,  as 
fruit-growers  and  nursery  men,  have  any  just  conception  of  the  value 
of  thorough  mulching,  as  a  means  of  promoting  the  health  and 
vigor  of  growing  trees.  In  fact,  such  a  mulching  of  the  whole 
ground  as  nature  provides  in  the  forest  by  the  annual  fall  of  the 
leaves,  may  be  said  to  be  unknown  in  artificial  culture,  so  rarely  is 
it  practiced,  yet  its  immediate  effect  in  promoting  new  and  vigorous 
growth  is  such  as  would  seem  almost  incredible  to  one  who  had  not 
witnessed  it,  and  aifords  one  of  the  most  beautiful  illustrations  of 
nature's  methods  of  securing  the  most  important  results  by  such 
simple  and  incidental  means  that  they  escape  our  notice,  though 
going  on  right  under  our  eyes  from  year  to  year. 

Of  course  the  richest  food  for  plant  consumption  is  in  the  soil 
near  the  surface,  but  if  that  soil  is  subjected  to  alternations  of  tem- 
perature and  moisture,  sometimes  baked  in  clods,  and  at  others 
reduced  to  the  consistency  of  mire,  no  roots  can  survive  the  changes. 
In  the  forest,  as  I  have  elsewhere  said,  these  changes  are  preven- 
ted by  the  shade  of  the  foliage  and  the  mulching  of  fallen  leaves. 
The  rich  mould  of  the  surface  soil  maintains  an  even  temperature, 
is  always  moist,  and  is  everwhere  permeated  with  fibrous  roots 
drawing  nourishment  from  the  rich  sources  which  surround  them, 
and  this  process  may  be  artificially  imitated,  and  the  same  results 
attained,  by  mulching,  if  properly  done.  It  does  not  sufiice  to  pile 
a  few  inches  of  straw  or  manure  around  each  tree  for  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  trunk.  If  the  tree  stands  singly,  at  a  distance  from 
others,  the  mulching  should  extend  on  every  side  beyond  the  spread 
of  its  branches ;  and  in  the  case  of  an  orchard,  or  young  wood,  the 
surface  of  the  whole  area  it  occupies  should  be  covered  with  leaves, 
straw,  shavings,  chip-dirt,  tan-bark,  or  whatever  material  is  most 
available,  to  a  depth  of  several  inches,  I  first  learned  the  value  of 
the  process  when  a  young  man,  on  a  coffee  plantation  in  Cuba,  where 
a  portion  of  the  hands  were  constantly  employed  in  collecting  re- 
fuse vegetable  matter  of  all  kinds,  and  spreading  over  the  whole 
ground  between  the  rows  of  the  coffee  bushes,  to  such  depth  as 
served  to  keep  the  surface  cool  and  of  even  temperature,  and  also 
to  prevent  the  growth  of  grass  and  weeds  and  thus  supersede  the 
necessity  of  ploughing  between  the  rows. 

Afterwards,  when  engaged  in  fruit  culture  in  New  Jersey,  I  prac- 
ticed it  in  my  vineyard  and  orchards  with  most  satisfactory  results, 
of  which  an  account  was  published  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  in 
the  Horticulturist,  then  edited  by  A.  J,  Downing,* 

The  trees  and  vines  responded  at  once  to  my  efforts  in  their  be- 
half by  such  increased  luxuriance  of  growth  that  it  was  easy  to  dis- 
tinguish the  portions  that  had  been  mulched  as  far  as  they  could 
be  seen,  and,  on  digging  into  the  surface  soil  under  the  mulching 
at  any  point,  I  found  it  filled  with  fibrous  roots  precisely  as  is  the 
case  in  the  leaf  mould  in  the  woods.  No  fruit-grower  who  has  once 
tried  this  experiment  will  ever  after  forego  the  advantages  it  offers, 
and  I  have  spoken  of  it  thus  at  length  from  the  obviously  vital  im- 
portance of  its  bearing  on  forest  culture.  A  moment's  reflection 
will  show  that  in  the  opening  and  thinning  of  native  wood  which 
had  grown  thickly  together,  a  heavy  mulching   of   such   portions  of 

*  Horticulturist,  Vol.  3,  p.  113, 


[XI] 

the  ground  as  may  unavoidably  become  exposed  may  be  of  most 
essential  service  in  preserving  the  health  and  vigor  of  the  trees  that 
are  to  be  retained. 

It  is  difficult  to  lay  down  specific  rules  by  which  a  novice  could 
be  guided  in  the  work  of  opening  and  thinning  out  the  wood  of  a 
native  forest,  except  by  fully  impressing  him  with  the  importance 
of  preserving,  so  far  as  is  possible,  the  conditions  which  nature 
shows  to  be  the  most  favorable  to  vigorous  growth,  and  proceeding 
very  cautiously  when  it  becomes  necessary  to  change  the  relative 
jn-oportions  of  the  intluences  which  atfect  the  vitality  of  the  trees. 
The  age  and  condition  of  the  wood  at  the  time  the  work  is  begun, 
are,  of  course,  important  elements  for  consideration.  If  the  growth 
is  not  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  years,  and  the  trees  have  not  sprung 
up  so  thickly  as  already  to  have  become  a  mere  thicket  of  hoop- 
l)(»k-s,  l^ut  iiave  preserved  a  reasonable  degree  of  symmetry,  its 
management  can  i>e  much  more  easily  controlled  than  if  it  has 
attained  a  more  mature  age,  and  especially  if  the  object  is  to  cre- 
ate an  ornamental  grove  composed  of  tine  specimens  of  individual 
trees,  a  process  by  which  the  value  of  desirable  residence  sites  in 
the  vicinity  of  cities  or  large  towns  might  often  be  very  greatly  in- 
creased. 

Whether  this  be  the  object,  or  the  development  of  timber,  the 
first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  select  and  place  a  distinguishing  mark 
upon  every  tree  which  is  ultimately  to  be  retained.  Then  remove 
at  first  from  its  immediate  vicinity  only  those  which  are  actually 
crowding  it,  or  impeding  its  growth  by  shading  or  interfering  with 
its  foliage.  Those  which  simply  shade  the  trunk  or  the  ground 
around  it  are  serving  a  useful  purpose,  and  should  not  be  disturbed. 
Indeed,  if  it  is  found  that  the  necessary  removals  involve  much  in- 
creased exposure  of  the  surface  soil  around  the  tree,  it  should  at 
once  be  covered  with  the  mulching  of  sutlicient  depth  to  prevent 
the  possibility  of  its  becoming  heated  and  dry.  All  other  sources  of 
danger  to  the  health  of  the  trees  are  insignificant  in  comparison 
with  that  of  the  rude  check  they  are  liable  to  receive  from  sudden 
exposure  of  the  trunks  and  surface  roots  to  the  influence  of  the  sun 
and  wind,  from  which  they  have  heretofore  been  protected,  and  to 
which  they  can  only  Ijecome  accustomed  by  a  gradual  change. 

The  next  year  it  will  be  found  that  the  tree  has  gladly  availed 
itself  of  the  opportunity  for  expansion,  and  has  spread  its  limbs  to 
till  the  vacant  space  around  it,  so  that  more  trees  must  now  i)e  re- 
moved, while  the  increased  mass  of  foliage  it  has  developed  renders 
it  less  liable  to  suffer  injury  from   their  loss. 

The  removal  of  the  undergro^^•th  of  shrubbery,  should  be  very  cau- 
tiously conducted,  and  in  no  case  should  it  l)e  removed  from  the 
outskirts  of  the  wood,  wliich  should  everywhere  l)e  left  with  as  dense 
a  growth  as  po8sii>le.  to  prevent  the  entrance  of  the  winds. 

The  sirocco-like  wind  from  the  S.  W.,  which  often  blows  with 
great  violence  for  days  together,  especially  in  the  spring  and  early 
summer,  when  the  trees  are  full  of  sap,  and  the  young  shoots  and 
leaves  are  tender  and  sensitive,  is  the  one  from  wliicli  most  danger 
is  to  be  apprehended.  The  merely  mechanical  injury  it  inliicts  upon 
the  spray  and  foliage  is  often  serious.  l>ut  its  worst  effects  are  due 
to  its  absorption  of  moisture  and  vitality. 


[XII] 

All  experienced  nursery  men  and  fruit-growers,  have  learned  to 
dread  its  exhausting  influences  especially,  upon  grape  vines  and  other 
broad  leaved  plants,  and  they  too  are  aware  of  the  fact,  which  com- 
paratively few  ordinary  observers  seem  to  have  noticed,  that  its 
effects  in  giving  a  general  trend  of  the  spray  and  branches  of 
trees  in  exposed  situations  towards  the  N.  E,,  is  so  marked  that  no 
one  who  has  learned  to  observe  it,  need  ever  be  long  at  a  loss  to 
know  the  points  of  the  compass  in  any  parts  of  the  country. 

The  fact,  however,  that  we  have  it  in  our  power  to  guard  against  the 
evil  effects  of  this  wind  by  artificial  means,  is  not  so  generally 
known  as  it  should  be,  and  it  was  only  after  many  years  observa- 
tion and  experience  that  I  came  to  a  full  realization  of  certain  facts 
in  connection  with  its  action,  which  have  a  most  important  bearing 
upon  the  question  of  forest  culture. 

I  became  aware,  many  years  since,  that  many  shrubs,  trees  and 
plants  w^ould  grow  and  thrive  at  Newport,  R.  I.,  and  at  Yarmouth, 
Nova  Scotia,  which  in  the  interior  were  only  found  much  farther 
south,  and  would  certainly  perish  if  removed  to  the  latitude  of  those 
towns.  The  reason  assigned  in  both  cases  was  the  warming  influ- 
ence of  the  neighboring  gulf  stream,  which  seemed  a  plausible  ex- 
planation in  which  my  faith  remained  unshaken  for  years,  until  I 
went  to  Chicago,  where  I  found  it  was  impossible  to  grow  many  of 
the  finer  fruits,  and  some  of  the  forest  trees  which  elsewhere  are 
found  in  much  higher  latitudes.  Neither  peaches  or  grapes  can  be 
grown  at  Chicago,  or  at  any  other  point  on  the  western  side  of  the 
lake  without  artificial  protection,  and  the  native  growth  of  wood  is 
very  meagre,  and  many  varieties  which  elsewhere  are  found  much 
farther  north,  as  the  beech  and  the  hemlock  cannot  be  grown ;  yet 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  only  sixty  miles  distant,  has  no  supe- 
rior in  the  whole  country  as  a  fruit  growing  region.  Peaches,  grapes, 
strawberries,  etc.,  grow  most  luxuriantly  anywhere  on  that  shore  up 
to  the  northern  extremity  of  the  lake,  three  hundred  miles  north  of 
Chicago,  and  every  variety  of  forest  tree  indigenous  to  the  country 
is  found  in  the  best  condition  of  vigorous  health. 

There  is  no  gulf  stream  to  account  for  this  difference,  but  the 
relative  position  towards  the  lake  of  the  whole  extent  of  its  fruitful - 
shore  is  the  same  as  that  of  Newport  and  Nova  Scotia  towards  the 
ocean.  In  both  cases  the  S.  W.  wind  reaches  the  shore  after  pass- 
ing for  a  long  distance  over  water,  and  instead  of  burning  and  ex- 
hausting vegetation  with  a  breath  of  fire,  it  comes  laden  with  the 
moisture  it  has  gathered  up  in  its  passage,  and  brings  health  and 
strength  upon  its  wings,  instead  of  disease  and  death.  Further 
reflection  served  to  convince  me  that  the  rule  was  susceptible  of 
much  wider  application,  and  serves  to  explain  the  different  vegeta- 
tion of  the  eastern  and  western  shores  of  great  continents  in  the 
same  parallels  of  latitude.  Central  Spain  and  southern  Italy  the 
lands  of  the  orange  and  grape  are  in  the  same  latitude  as  Boston, 
and  going  west  on  the  same  parallel  to  California,  we  again  find 
ourselves  surrounded  with  fruits  and  plants  which  in  Boston  can  only 
be  grown  under  glass.  Continuing  our  western  flight  across  the 
Pacific,  we  find  the  flora  of  Eastern  Asia  to  bear,  in  many  respects, 
a  striking  resemblance  to  that  of  Eastern  America. 


[  xin  1 

These  facts  have  certainly  a  very  important  hearing  upon  the 
question  of  forest  culture.  They  prove  that  the  S.  W.  wind  of 
spriiifz  and  early  summer  is  perhaps  the  worst  enemy  we  have  to 
guard  against,  and  also  that  its  deleterious  intluenees  are  neutralized 
when  it  passes  over  a  large  body  of  water.  It  is  comparatively  rare, 
however,  that  a  situation  can  be  secured  affording  that  advantage, 
and  the  question  naturally  arises,  are  there  no  otlier  means  of  pro- 
tection? I  am  happy  to  have  it  in  my  power  again  to  summon 
nature  as  a  witness  that  such  means  are  within  our  reach. 

I  have  said  that  the  beech  would  not  grow  near  Chicago,  a  fact 
which  I  was  very  reluctant  to  admit  on  first  going  there,  and  was 
only  fully  convinced  of  its  truth  by  witnessing  ropeiited  failures,  and 
the  evidence  of  relial)le  nurserymen  who  had  tried  in  vain  to  pre- 
serve it.  Yet  after  I  had  long  been  satisfied  that  it  was  idle  to 
attempt  its  culture,  I  was  one  day  amazed,  while  survej'ing  in  the 
woods  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  at  coming  upon  a  little  group 
of  beech  trees  comprising  some  twenty  or  thirty  in  all,  of  mature 
size  and  in  full  health  and  vigor.  On  examining  the  situation,  to 
discover,  if  possible,  an  explanation  of  the  phenomenon,  I  observed 
first  that  they  stood  in  the  bottom  of  a  ravine  so  deep  that  their 
tops  were  scarcely  even  with  its  banks,  while  the  wood  which  sur- 
rounded them  extended  more  than  a  mile  to  the  S.  W.,  so  that  they 
were  completely  sheltered  from  the  effects  of  the  wind  from  that 
quarter.  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  or  to  hear  of  another  beech 
tree  anywhere  in  that  region,  and  can  only  account  for  their  pres- 
ence l)y  supposing  the  seed  to  have  been  brought  from  a  distance 
l»y  birds,  probably  crows,  jays  or  wild  pigeons,  and  dropped  acci- 
dentally on  a  spot,  which  proved  to  be  a  "coigne  of  vantage,"  where 
they  were  safe  from  the  enemy.  The  evidence  thus  afforded  of  the 
value  of  a  screen  on  the  S.  W.  side,  should  not  be  lost  upon  those 
who  are  selecting  sites  for  orchards,  or  vineyards,  and  shows  the 
importance  when  thinning  a  wood,  of  leaving  whatever  shubbery  or 
foliage  there  may  be  on  that  side  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  wind. 

The  work  of  pruning  the  trees  which  are  to  be  preserved  for  tim- 
ber involves  a  careful  consideration  of  the  principles  1  have  set 
fortli,  apart  from  the  judgment  required  for  the  skilful  performance 
of  the  mere  manual  labor.  The  object  in  view  being  the  de- 
velopment of  the  bole,  it  is  important  to  remove  any  limbs 
which  threaten  to  become  its  rivals  in  size,  if  any  such  have  be- 
come established  l)efore  the  work  of  improvement  began.  But 
after  the  trunk  has  attained  the  desired  height,  it  is  on  all  accounts 
desirable  to  develope  the  largest  possible  mass  of  foliage,  because 
the  making  of  wood  can  only  be  efiFected  by  the  elaboration  of  the 
sap,  which  is  the  work  of  the  leaves. 

If  one  is  rearing  a  new  forest,  in  which  the  trees  have  been  under 
his  control  from  tlie  time  of  planting,  it  must  be  the  result  of  his  own 
ignorance  or  negligence  if  he  has  failed  to  secure  such  forms  as  he 
desired,  since  it  is  easy  to  direct  the  growth  of  young  trees,  and 
prevent  them  from  running  into  extravagances,  wiiich  will  unfit 
them  for  service  as  timber.  And  not  unfrequently  we  may  find  a 
young  wood  of  indigenous  growth,  which  may  be  taken  in  hand  and 
wrought  into  such  shape  that  its  future  progress  can  be  easily  di- 
rected.   But,  for  the  most  part,  in  woods  that  have  been  suffered  to 


L  XIV  J 

run  wild  till  they  have  approached  maturity,  a  good  deal  of  skilful 
pruning  will  be  required  to  bring  the  individual  trees  that  are  to 
be  preserved  into  such  form  as  will  give  them  most  value.  Nothing 
but  practice  and  careful  observation  can  confer  this  power.  The 
little  treatise  of  DesCars  on  the  pruning  of  forest  and  ornamental 
trees,  translated  by  Mr.  C.  S.  Sargent,  of  the  Arnold  Arboretum, 
and  published  by  A.  Williams  &  Co.,  of  Boston,  (price  75  cents  ) 
contains  full  and  explicit  illustrated  directions  for  all  the  manual 
work  of  pruning,  and  is  invaluable  as  a  guide  to  the  novice,  and  a 
work  of  reference  to  experienced  foresters.  But  mere  manual  skill 
in  the  performance  of  the  work  will  be  of  little  avail  without  the 
application  of  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  tree  growth, 
and  a  strict  compliance  with  the  requirements  of  their  nature. 

If  our  agriculturists  will  but  apply  to  the  management  of  their 
forests  the  same  intelligence  with  which  fchey  direct  the  culture 
of  other  farm  crops,  they  will  find  an  equally  ready  response 
to  their  efforts.  The  farmer  who  should  leave  his  field  of  corn  or 
pota.toes  to  shift  for  itself,  or  suffer  his  cattle  and  hogs  to  ramble 
through  it  at  will,  would  be  justly  sneered  at  by  his  neighbors  and 
punished  by  the  loss  of  his  crop — and  trees  have  no  more  capacity 
for  self-management  than  corn  or  other  vegetables,  and  are  quite  as 
ready  to  profit  by  judicious  culture,  and  to  yield  returns  corres- 
ponding to  the  care  bestowed  upon  them.  They  are  not  liable  to 
be  utterly  destroyed,  as  corn  is,  by  the  incursions  of  live  stock,  but 
they  do  suffer  serious  injury  from  the  trampling  and  rooting  up  of 
the  ground.  I  have  seen  beautiful  groves  of  oaks  in  Iowa  full  of 
dead  and  dying  trees,  and,  on  asking  the  cause,  have  been  told  that 
the  native  woods  "can't  stand  civilization,"  but  always  die  out  when 
cattle  begin  to  run  in  them  f  and  I  am  told  that,  in  Kentucky  and 
elsewhere  in  the  South,  the  young  growth  is  found  to  contain  only 
the  inferior  varieties  of  oaks,  as  the  swine  running  in  the  woods 
seek  and  greedily  eat  the  acorns  of  the  white  oak,  on  account  of 
their  superior  sweetness.  Has  anyone  ever  estimated  the  cost  of 
raising  hogs  on  such  food? 

I  have  endeavored,  in  the  preceding  pages,  to  confine  myself 
to  the  special  features  of  forest  growth  which  need  to  be  re- 
garded in  the  effort  to  develop  and  improve  a  native  wood,  wher- 
ever it  may  be.  The  planting  and  culture  of  an  artificial  forest 
is  quite  another  affair,  and  I  have  made  no  allusion  to  it  because 
my  special  object  has  been,  if  possible,  to  urge  the  fact,  and 
arouse  attention  to  it,  that  we  stiU  have  vast  resources  of  latent 
wealth  on  every  side,  susceptible  of  development  by  proper  man- 
agement, which  we  are  everywhere  suffering  to  run  to  waste. 
The  work  of  planting  and  rearing  artificial  forests  can  not  indeed 
be  urged  too  strongly,  and  there  is  no  danger  of  its  being  overdone. 
But  the  conviction  of  its  necessity  can  be  more  readily  and  forcibly 
impressed  upon  the  popular  mind  by  an  illustration  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  forest  culture,  when  applied  to  our  native  woods,  than  by 
any  other  means.  The  need  of  further  progress  by  artificial  plant- 
ing will  speedily  become  obvious,  and  will  follow  in  natural  course. 

It  has  been  asserted,  and  with  truth,  that  it  is  idle  for  us  to 
establish  schools  of  forestry,  because  there  is  no  demand  for  fores- 
ters, and    consequently  no  stimulus  to  the  acquirement  of    a  knowl- 


[XV] 

edjjjf  of  the  theory  and  practise  of  the  art.  It  will  be  time  enough 
to  t'stiibhsh  such  schools,  it  is  said,  when  we  have  evidence  that 
there  are  people  who  desire  to  avail  themselves  of  the  advantages 
tliL-y  otfer,  and  that  will  not  be  till  there  is  a  demand  for  the  ser- 
vicfs  of  those  who  have  done  so.  This  is  true,  so  far  as  it  goes, 
but  the  next  consideration  is,  how  to  create  the  demand.  There  was 
no  denuind  a  few  years  ago  for  telegraph  operators,  and  when  I 
was  a  boy  there  was  no  demand  for  railroad  employes,  for  there 
Were  no  railroads.  How  was  the  demand  created '?  By  showing  the 
importance  of  the  results.  Think  of  the  time  and  labor  expended 
by  Morse  and  his  associates  before  they  could  get  permission  to 
demonstrate  the  value  of  the  electric  telegraph  by  a  line  from  Wash- 
ington to  Baltimore.  No  general  interest  was  felt  in  the  scheme  till 
its  advantages  were  thus  made  manifest,  because  there  was  no  rcul- 
hlny  conviction  of  its  truth.  And  to-day  we  are  in  a  similar  posi- 
tion in  reference  to  the  question  of  forestry.  The  impending  danger 
of  tlie  diminishing  supply  of  timber  is  acknowledged  by  all  who  are 
familiar  with  the  subject,  but  there  is  no  realizing  sense  of  it  in  the 
popular  mind,  and  there  is  a  want  of  confidence  in  the  practicability 
of  any  of  the  proposed  measures  of  relief.  The  first  and  most  im- 
portant thing  to  do,  therefore,  is  to  stimulate  popular  interest  by 
showing  what  can  be  done.  To  create  a  popular  demand  of  any 
kind,  it  is  essential  first  to  demonstrate  the  value  of  its  object. 
The  men  who  are  famihar  Avith  forest  culture,  know,  as  well  as 
Morse  knew  the  capability  of  the  telegraph,  that  the  wealth  of  the 
nation  may  be  enormously  increased  by  the  proper  development  of 
the  native  woods  already  standing,  but  they  can  point  to  no  evi- 
dence of  the  truth  of  their  assertion,  and  the  fact  that  it  has  not 
been  done  is  regarded  as  proof  of  its  impossilnlity.  There  is  no 
such  thing  in  the  country  as  an  illustrative  example  of  what  may 
be  accomplished  by  timber  culture,  and  very  few  of  our  citizens  who 
visit  Europe  can  appreciate  the  works  which  have  there  been 
achieved.  They  go  abroad  to  study  works  of  art,  with  the  idea  that 
we  have  nothing  to  learn  m  regard  to  natural  productions,  and  the 
comparatively  small  number  wlio  grasp  the  conception  of  the  grand 
possibilities  of  (leveloi)ment  which  our  forests  otfer  to  the  exercise 
of  such  artificial  culture  as  may  there  be  seen,  can  do  no  more  on 
their  return  than  express  their  convicti(ms  and  urge  the  importance  of 
acting  upon  them.  This  they  have  done  for  many  years  past,  but 
they  have  not  succeeded  in  arousing  such  a  popular  conviction  of 
the  necessity  as  should  enforce  the  action  of  their  representatives  to 
the  i)oint  of  making  needful  provision.  The  enormous  and  costly 
scale  on  which  the  work  of  planting  new  forests  must  be  undertaken, 
in  order  to  be  effective,  seems  to  throw  a  damper  upon  every  effort 
to  i)ring  it  to  pass. 

If  every  owner  of  a  wood  lot  could  be  convinced  that  its  value 
miglit  be  enormously  increased  by  a  process  which,  so  far  from  de- 
manding an  outlay,  would  add  to  his  annual  income,  it  would  not 
be  long  before  farmers  would  consider  it  as  derogatory  to  their  rep- 
utation to  leave  the  forests  in  the  wild  condition  they  now  are,  as 
they  would  to  have  a  field  of  corn  presenting  a  similar  appearance 
of  slovenliness.  To  produce  such  conviction  the  truth  must  be  dem- 
onstrated in  actual   practice,  and   the    cost   of   such    demonstration 


will  be  but  a  trifling  price  to  pay  for  the  returns  it  will  bring.  Let 
any  State  or  city  select  a  tract  of  woodland  at  some  easily  access- 
ible point,  and  put  it  under  a  proper  course  of  management,  as  an 
experimental  forest,  and  it  would  very  soon  excite  an  interest  which 
could  not  fail  to  increase.  A  portion  of  it  should  be  suffered  to 
remain  in  its  original,  unimproved  condition.  Another  part  should 
be  improved  as  "open  park,"  for  the  best  development  of  individual 
trees  in  their  fullest  natural  capacity  of  dignity  and  grace,  and  a 
third  portion  should  be  devoted  to  the  production  of  timber  by  the 
process  of  thinning,  pruning  and  proper  culture.  The  progress  of 
development  could  then  be  seen  and  watched  from  year  to  year  in 
all  its  stages,  and  the  demonstration  thus  afforded  would  touch  the 
interest  of  every  owner  of  a  wood  lot.  The  process  would  soon 
begin  to  be  imitated,  a  conviction  of  the  value  and  importance  of  a 
knowledge  of  forestry  would  become  established  in  the  popular 
mind,  and  the  demand  for  the  services  of  those  who  had  acquired 
it  would  lead  to  a  demand  for  the  means  of  acquirement,  and  thus 
the  schools  of  forestry  would  be  called  into  existence  by  the  natural 
course  of  events. 

The  inauguration  of  such  an  experimental  or  illustrative  forest  as 
a  means  of  exciting  public  interest  is  surely  an  object  that  is  well 
worthy  the  consideration  of  legislative  and  municipal  bodies,  or  of 
corporations  whose  interests  are  connected  with  this  form  of  national 
wealth.  The  cost  would  be  insignificant  in  comparison  with  that  of 
planting  and  maintaining  new  forests,  and  the  spur  of  personal 
interest  would  incite  such  general  action  as  would  add  incalculably 
to  the  wealth  of  every  State  without  further  outlay  than  the  cost 
of  demonstration. 

It  is  of  course  desirable  that  the  experimental  forest  should  be  as 
conspicuous  and  easily  accessible  to  the  public  as  possible,  for  which 
reason  the  vicinity  of  a  city  would  seem  the  most  appropriate 
point.  And  municipal  bodies  would  be  justified  in  making  a  liberal 
appropriation  for  the  promotion  of  such  an  object,  since  it  would 
certainly  constitute,  for  great  numbers  of  people,  one  of  the  princi- 
pal attractions  of  the  city.  The  beneficial  results  which  would  fol- 
low, however,  would  add  so  largely  to  the  substantial  wealth  and 
power  of  the  State  that  its  main  support  should  be  derived  from 
legislative  rather  than  municipal  action. 

It  is  not,  however,  my  province  to  discuss  the  means  of  effecting 
the  work,  beyond  this  general  suggestion. 

I  have  aimed  only  to  convey  a  conception  of  the  rich  resources 
which  nature  has  placed  at  our  disposal,  if  we  choose  to  avail  our- 
selves of  her  offer. 

I  have  made  no  statement  in  regard  to  forest  growth  which  wiU 
not  be  recognized  as  true  by  all  who  are  familiar  with  the  subject, 
and  all  such  persons  will  endorse  my  statement  that,  practically,  the 
rules  which  govern  the  process  are  universally  ignored. 

I  have  pointed  out  what  I  conceive  to  be  the  readiest  means  of 
awakening  public  attention  and  creating  such  general  interest  as 
will  insure  reform,  and  I  leave  to  other  hands  the  task  of  arranging 
the  laws  which  must  govern  its  execution. 


